Short Stories
by socks-lost
Summary: A collection of unrelated shorts that are less than a thousand words each (short one-shots.) Rating ranges from K-T. Jane/Maura.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I've been debating with myself what to do with these small stories for a long time, and I finally decided I should just make a place for them here because that's easy and keeps everything organized. (So if I write anymore, they'll go here rather than tumblr like I've been doing.) They're basically just shorts that are less than 1k words in length that have nothing to do with each other. It's kind of what I use to practice. ANYWAY.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the characters related in any of these stories.

* * *

There is a line between them. It's made of subtle paint and blurred edges with worn spots in the middle.

Jane doesn't know what she wants to do with the line.

She's torn between wanting to step across it boldly with a smirk and say _screw it _or to quietly mind its boundaries. Because while some rules are meant to be broken, some are there for a reason. And what if this is the one with a reason?

They've crossed other lines, she knows. And they haven't died yet. (Which is a miracle in and of itself.)

She knows they are more than friends, but not quite _more than friends. _

And every time she thinks about crossing the line, she can't help but wonder what makes the difference. Can't help but wonder how many lines can they cross without adverse effects. And why does it even matter? Why is this little, obscure thing in the road seem like such a big deal? Why is she so hyper aware of a tiny little thing that never meant any harm?

They are the type of questions that don't actually _have_ answers. The kind that just sit in the back of the mind and agitate brain cells and disrupt thoughts.

Like right now, they are in Maura's kitchen. Alone. And Maura's talking a mile a minute about an article she read earlier in the day about something Jane knew nothing about because she was too focused on other things, like intonation over words. Like the way Maura's lips curl upward at the ends of her sentences when she looks over her shoulder to see if Jane's listening, and how her eyes light up the whole room, make everything warmer.

And Jane's mind starts to drift to other things and she wants nothing more than to kiss her hard against the counter.

And she knows, she absolutely knows, that if she did, Maura would kiss her back and just the thought of Maura's lips moving against hers, Maura's fingers in her hair gives her goose bumps, but then reality sets in, because they are alone.

And there's a difference in being alone and being with other people.

A difference in being inside and being outside.

And she wants to say that being a woman and being with a woman has nothing to do with it. But it does. And she wants to say it's not self-sabotage out of fear of being loved. But it is.

Her reactions are typically knee-jerk in nature. She acts before she thinks, says offensive things without meaning to. And more often than not Maura is on the tail end of it all because Maura is always there and that thought smacks her again right in the forehead.

_Maura is always there. _

And what if she screws it up?

What if she does or says the wrong thing? Or what if she reacts badly to the good natured teasing she'll surely endure from her brothers and coworkers? Or what if the first time they hold hands in public she drops Maura's hand when someone walks by?

And what if, like the men she's dated, Maura disappears?

And being with Maura would mean having to admit that she needs someone else. She would have to admit that what they say about her is true. That her mother is right and yes, she likes having someone to come home to and 'take care' of her.

It means having someone there at the odd hours of the night when sleep is elusive and she's vacuuming the floor. Or having someone next to her in bed while she's tossing and turning and sweaty and all long limbs and twisted tank and shaky breaths.

It means commitment, and everything about that word freaks her out.

"Jane? You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?"

Jane blinks out of the sudden tunnel she's in and she's staring straight into those eyes that can't make a decision on what color they should be. Maura's gone through the whole dishwasher and is drying her hands leaning against the counter with a knowing smile on her face.

They have been here before.

And it's this moment when Jane doesn't know which feeling is stronger: the fear or the want?

She feels like she's at the threshold of something she can't name and she's too afraid to move forward and too drawn to go back. And usually she goes in because that's what she does and who she is but her feet are glued to the floor. She has not spent hours training for this.

But she looks at Maura who is looking at her and she thinks.

She thinks maybe needing someone isn't so bad, maybe she already needs Maura and this little extra is like whipped cream and a cherry on top of an already delicious sundae.

She thinks her arms would fit perfectly around Maura's waist and when her head gets too heavy it would find a perfect resting place in the crook of Maura's neck.

And maybe she should just let herself be happy for once without the thought of consequence and catastrophe.

She blinks and Maura is standing in front of her and there are words between them. They are silent, unspoken things full of promises they can't possibly keep but there is no harm in trying.

In the space of a breath and a look Maura is kissing her hard against the counter. And her breath hitches as her hands go to Maura's hair (and this is better than what she imagined.)

And there is something in the way Maura's hands grasp her shirt in handfuls which tells Jane that maybe Maura's been stuck at that threshold too.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **In which Maura asks Jane on a date in the middle of the bullpen.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. No money. ETC.

* * *

"Jane?"

"Yeah, Maur?" The detective mumbled eyes solely fixated on the computer screen in front of her, there wasn't a hitch in the rhythmic clicking of the keyboard.

Maura licked her lips in annoyance, just barely keeping her would be eyeroll in check. "You said we could talk at five."

"We're talking."

"When I asked to speak with you later I meant in private."

"Well," There was a brief pause while Jane thought before the clicking resumed. "If it's really urgent just say it now." She shrugged. It was Friday, and she was determined to finish this report just so she wouldn't have to go in tomorrow.

Maura sighed heavily, dropping her shoulders and nearly stamping her foot. Why did Jane have to be so difficult? Hazel eyes surreptitiously scanned the bullpen. The bullpen was relatively crowded. At just after five o'clock detectives were coming in from the various places they'd been all day to check out and gather their things, ready for a head start on the weekend. She glanced at Jane. Maura always told her not to procrastinate her reports, and yet she did every time. (Jane's response had always been one of:_ Really, there's a murderer on the loose and you're worried about my paperwork? Do you know how tedious that shit is?)_

Jane's head was tilted just slightly to the left, dark eyes squinted at the screen every once in a while in thought. Maura could almost see her thought process as it worked itself out. Maura could spend hours just watching this woman doing even the most mundane tasks. Everything about Jane was enthralling, from her attitude, to her ponytail, to the two year old completely unfashionable boots that always adorned her feet. She shook her head just slightly, trying to get back on track.

She took a deep breath and looked at her watch. Her mother needed to know by six if she was bringing a date, to give the venue a proper headcount at their table and to know what 'her date' (Jane, hopefully) wanted for dinner. It was getting close to five thirty. She sighed.

"If that's how you want to be fine." She siad under her breath. "As you know I am attending a function for the Isles Foundation tomorrow evening. I was wondering if you would accompany me as my date." The words fell from her lips with forced slowness. Out of nervous habit she twirled the ring on her finger as she awaited Jane's answer.

"Yeah, sure." Jane shrugged nonchalantly. "Will I have to wear a dress?"

"If we found an appropriate style suit, you could wear that."

"Good."

Maura furrowed her eyebrows at the detective once her line of questioning was finished. Did Jane just agree to be her date? She wasn't the only one perplexed by Jane's answer. Everyone was looking at them now. It made Maura mildly nervous. She smoothed her clammy hands down her skirt out of nervous tension.

"The Doc's asking you out on a date, Jane. Like romance, wining and dining." Korsak butted in with an eyebrow raised, just to clarify in case Jane didn't know.

Jane rolled her eyes as she shut off her desktop. "I know that Sergeant Obvious." A paper ball hit him in the chest. She turned to Maura and grinned, leaning back in her chair. "So when do you have to be there?"

"Six." Maura said with a smile.

"So I'll pick you up at five then?"

"I asked _you _out. I'm picking you up at five, but we are going to a small boutique to find you suitable attire first." Maura smiled.

"Fine." Someone coughed a _whipped _from the back of the room, but Jane didn't care because Maura was looking at her like she was the best thing in the universe.

Jane stood throwing her blazer over her shoulder. "Come on." She tapped the side of Maura's hip as she stood. "I'm done with that report, there's a game on and I need a beer before my mother calls me."

Just as the elevator doors were closing, Jane couldn't help but smirk at all of the gawking faces of her colleagues. She tossed an arm over Maura's shoulder, who wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled up to her almost instantly. "Later boys."

The men in the homicide bullpen all looked at each other. Different mumbles floating through the room.

"What just happened?"

"I thought they were already dating?"

"I knew Rizzoli wouldn't have the balls to ask her first."

"Maybe they'll stop flirting at crime scenes."

"Doubt it."

Korsak stood from his desk with a soft chuckle. "First round at the Robber is on me."

Frost stood shaking his head, though he was grinning. "You're on, old man."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **In which Jane has a moment on the couch, while Maura goes in the kitchen.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters used in this thing nor am I affiliated with any of the references made.

* * *

The moment Jane realizes she can't live without Maura they are not doing anything special or worthy of deep thinking.

They are just sitting on the couch watching one of those reality shows that always seems to be on the History Channel and stealing kisses during commercials. (Jane has a game going in her head to see how long they can make it before breaking the kiss, so far they've gotten up to two and a half commercials.)

There is nothing spectacular about their night. They are either too tired or too old to care about going out and even staying at the Robber lately after work has been a chore. (Though, Jane does find the things Maura is doing with her mouth spectacular, and it's spectacular the way those fingers are tracing funny patterns against her thigh.)

It hits her, this moment, right at the next commercial break.

It's when she's expecting a lingering kiss and a wandering hand, and doesn't get it.

It's the sudden jerk forward, the way she nearly falls into unexpected vacant space as soon as _don't you want me baby _starts playing on the TV.

Maura zigs. And she zags. And Jane knows this will not be the last time, because it's certainly not the first.

But the zigging and zagging is old. And she's grown tired of near misses, and almosts. Because they are _still _making up for lost time (though she has no complaints about the 'making up for' part.)

This near fall on the sofa has her sympathizing with a duster. And she is alone on the couch, faltering.

Things, images, memories, dramatized by her own mind pop like bubbles above her head.

And it hits her at the bridge between commercials, it hits her when the noise in the kitchen stops, when the space next to her that still smells like her…Maura (labels are hard) remains empty.

For a moment she can't breathe.

It's not like she hasn't thought about it before, life without Maura. But this is all flashes of guns pointed at that beautiful temple, it's scalpels on throats, and _whatever you want, I can get it. _It's _holy shit, how many times have they almost lost each other?_

It's like a case where the pieces are starting to form and coalesce and things are starting to make sense to make the Big Picture.

And she never realized how big that fucking picture was.

There is nothing subtle about the way it hits her. Maura is her weakest link and strongest point, her Kryptonite and the thing that makes her Superman.

And it's terrifying. Absolutely terrifying because she has seen those episodes of Superman. She's seen the movie where the bad guy goes after loved ones and the cop goes rogue to get them back. She practically has those movies memorized. The cop always wins. She hopes she'll always win.

But before she can think any further, she feels cool hands on either side of her face and warm lips press against hers slowly as they both melt into the other. Jane can just hear something about toilet paper on the TV before it's all white noise, and Maura, Maura, Maura.

A hand drifts to her neck stroking lightly against her skin. Jane wonders if Maura can feel how fast her heart is beating. And Maura makes a cute noise when Jane's own hand sneaks under her top.

After a moment there is space between them. They are both breathing heavy, and flushed, and happy. Maura looks at her with smoldering golden-green eyes and Jane feels hot all over.

"I love you." It slips. Jane has said it before, but it's rare. Only, when Maura kisses her again, deeply and moves into her lap, forget the TV, she makes a mental note to say it more often.

Maura grins as she pulls away. "I know." The next kiss is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it type. "I love you."

Jane grins, dimples and all. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **In which the author tries something different stylistically because why not?

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. No money. The usual.

* * *

There's a moment that happens when your best friend tells you they have a crush on you. Even if she follows with examples of how small, how insignificant that crush is. Even if she gives you examples as to why it's silly and why it wouldn't work. Even if it's after a few too many glasses of wine (because you know she never goes too far and if she's any kind of inebriated it's only just barely 'tipsy'.)

There's a moment where your mind and your heart and _everything _inside of you is screaming all at once. Different things in different octaves – your insides are like a domestic disturbance call at a family reunion where too many beers and not enough hours have passed.

But the one thing – the two most overbearing words you seem to hear most clearly are _oh shit._

_Oh shit._

Like a mantra.

_Oh shit._

Like you are chasing a bad guy and you forgot to look at street signs and you hear your back up going in the opposite direction because no one knows where you are.

_Oh shit._

Your face is doing weird things you're sure. But you can't help it because she and you and _oh shit. _

She gets up from the couch.

(You're at her house. (You're always at her house.) And you remember how this all got started. You were talking about Casey, about high school love, and each of your seemingly random crushes growing up. The two of you were swapping stories like two drunks at a bar (but neither of you are drunk) and all of a sudden she lays it down with '_I think I'd have to say my strangest crush has been you.'_ She has the nerve to laugh after that, but stops promptly at the look on your face. You are so caught off guard you don't even take offense to the fact that she referred to you as a 'strange crush.')

She gets up from the couch with a terse look on her face and her empty wine glass meanwhile you still gape like a fish unable to breathe, unable to think.

It's not that you've never thought about it before.

It's because you have.

It was always that weird little fantasy you never knew you could actually have.

Like getting into BCU.

It's not that you wanted to go there, you just wanted to see if you could get in. And then you did. And all of those underlying feelings actually surfaced and you couldn't deal with them at eighteen so you kept the acceptance letter hidden at the very bottom of a box underneath all of your old, stinky hockey equipment because your mother would never look there.

This feels a lot like that.

Or more specifically like you are living in an alternate reality where your mother _did _find the letter and confronted you about it.

And you have nowhere to hide and being older doesn't make it easier.

She presses a cold beer into your hand which your fingers instinctively curl around.

"I shouldn't have said anything." The couch sinks as she sits. Her voice is distant and closing up – you'd recognize that anywhere. She shifts so there's more space between the two of you and shakes her head with a soft sigh. "I don't know why I did. I've made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

You look at her then. She takes a delicate sip from her glass in a way that you know she's only doing it to have something to do. There is no way around the sadness on her face when she pulls back to stare into the deep red liquid.

She is your best friend, but there is no denying the way you feel.

Only that's all you want to do. It's all you ever want to do. It's why things with Casey were easy. It's easy to get lost in something that won't affect anything else besides your love life. But with Maura there are things to consider – big scary things with terrifying consequences. (Because you always knew on some level Casey wasn't forever, but Maura has the potential to be and that _terrifies_ you.)

She stares into her wine for an indeterminate amount of time before sighing again. She looks up and your eyes lock.

Your heart feels like it will beat straight through your ribs. Your breath hitches. Jet fuel is running through your veins and you are about to transfer all of that potential into kinetic if she gives you two more seconds to prepare for liftoff.

"Jane."

And there it is.

* * *

**A/N: **So, hit or miss?

Side note: I've actually had that happen to me once. It happened over the phone so my friend couldn't see my face (thankfully) but I do remember thinking 'oh my god, shit' repeatedly while my friend was basically talking nonsense until I could finally react. I don't know why I remembered that tonight but I did and then this happened hah.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5 - a companion for Chapter 4

**A/N: **Some of you wanted a part two to the last one so here we are.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. No money. ETC.

* * *

"I – I – I –" Only your plane sputters on the runway as your voice skips like a broken record stuck on the same line. You feel the words inside of you. You are thinking too hard and too much. And nothing is coming out.

She looks at you strangely – a mix of hope and question in her eyes before a wave of realization comes crashing into her pier. You almost smile before you realize she's come to the wrong conclusion. Her shoulders square up like she is on your plane bracing for the impact of your failed piloting endeavor.

She stands again from the couch.

And you wish you had a fasten seatbelt sign.

_Wait! _You want to shout. _Don't go. _But the words still don't come. Your heart is beating too fast and your throat feels like it is going to close and if you try hard enough you can almost see spots. It's like you're having an allergic reaction to your feelings.

She is in the kitchen by the time you gather enough of your shit together to stand.

"Jane really it's not…a…big – it's not a big deal." And you don't know if she's getting hives or going to faint but the glass in her shaky hand looks like it's about to meet its untimely demise if she doesn't put it down. (She does.)

"Maura…"

"It's just a crush. A small – "

You know it's not just a crush. That it's not silly or insignificant. The way her voice cracks, the way she falls over her words tells you everything. And if it's a fraction of what you feel (right now, last night, two weeks ago, at lunch, whenever or all the time) throwing a 'just' in front of it is nothing but insulting. "Don't lie to me." Your voice is more air than sound but she hears you.

She always hears you.

The papers have called you a hero more than once. They call your recklessness bravery and your coworkers call it luck and badass. You're sure your mother has the clippings taped in a binder somewhere.

If only they could see you now.

You are at a stalemate.

The only thing playing in your head is Not Maura. Everything you do throughout the day just without her and it makes your heart heavy. It's what you always thought would happen, only now, now you have a different scenario playing in front of you. One where by some miracle she likes you back. And when does that ever happen? But here she is. And here she does. And you think that's why your brain is having such a hard time with all of this.

What do you do when everything you ever wanted is standing in front of you?

Your heart is screaming _go for it_ but your brain is screaming _hold on_.

She turns around, and she looks like she's about to cry. (You hate it when she cries.)

Something inside of you snaps so utterly, so completely that your first step is more of a flinch and a stumble. Your body tells the rest of you to _shove it_.

There is delightful confusion in her eyes. "Jane."

There are a million somethings in the way she says your name. You tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyelids flutter.

Not Maura is replaced by Maura. You can see it clear as day. A yellow sundress and a checkered picnic blanket. A coy smile over coffee. A sleepy grin in the dead of night. The possibilities are endless, the hope you have growing inside your chest is going to shine through your every pore if you don't do something.

"I have a crush on you too." You whisper leaning forward. (You make sure not to miss her wide smile before sealing the deal.)

And you might actually pass out when her hands pull you closer, when she starts kissing you back.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


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